


Solitude

by orphan_account



Category: Misfits
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon watches Alisha. </p><p>"He had thought that Alisha would go to a party, or go out with her friends, or have sex, or do something fabulous that he could never do, but she just answered text messages."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solitude

Simon doesn't understand people. The more he films them or watches them or talks to him the more he realizes that there is something deeply wrong with him. Everyone else just seems to be. Everyone seems so sure of themselves and so thoughtless. But Simon's mind churns away all the time. Sometimes he even catches himself over-thing how he breathes. How would it look if someone saw him? Should he breath through his nose? Or maybe his mouth? Both? Maybe he shouldn't breath at all.

That's why Simon likes to be invisible. He would never admit it, especially not when Alisha and Kelly's powers make them so miserable, but being invisible frees Simon. Being invisible means that Simon can do what he likes best, which is observe people.

At least, that's what Simon tells himself as he stands in Alisha's room watching her reflection in the mirror as she unhooks her bra. Her observes her breasts with clinical detachment. Her nipples are small and dark, and he stores the information away, as if he plans to run a comparative study. Maybe he does.

Simon stands close behind Alisha as she plays with her phone, checking her text messages. She is still mostly naked and Simon enjoys the way the faint breeze of his breath moves the baby hairs at the nape of her neck. It's a lonely sort of pleasure, like double dipping his chips in the salsa no on else eats, or wanking in the living room.

It occurs to Simon that he could reach down and touch himself and Alisha would never know, no one would ever know. He could do it right now. Right now. He glances down, towards his cock and considers the idea. He gives himself an experimental feel through his trousers, but he can't stop imagining the face Alisha would make if she knew. He knows Alisha will never know, but he can't stop seeing the way her mouth would open and hearing the little noise of disgust she would make. It's not an arousing image and so he stops after that one guilty, pubescent tug.

Instead Simon watches the easy way Alisha sits on her bed, one leg on the floor one next to her on the mattress. He notices slowly that her position exposes a tiny sliver of skin somewhere between thigh, bottom and some part of her Simon doesn't know the name of. He kneels down on the floor as quietly as he can to look closer, purposefully not thinking about what he's doing. It doesn't matter any way, Alisha can't see him, she'll never know.

The skin is pinker and looks raw somehow and it's scattered with bumps where maybe there was once hair. He's looking at her... at her... Simon can't find a word that seems right for the hidden, secret part of Alisha that he's looking at, all the words seem to childish or too crude or too clinical. But that doesn't matter because he's looking at it. He leans forward, trying to see more, or maybe to smell. He longs to move her ridiculously decorative underwear out of the way and just look. He's seen a woman's genitals before, but never those of a woman he knows. He half wonders if they would tell him something about Alisha, the true, secret nature of her soul. He raises his hands, as if to move them and reveal just a tiny bit more skin, but he never really intended to and smooths down the collar of his shirt instead.

Above him, Alisha stirs and Simon realizes just how close to her he is. He would be embarrassed, but no one will ever know. He sits back on his heels just in time to escape a hard kick and a nasty reveal as Alisha lies down flat on her bed. She's still mostly naked, completely topless, and gravity has flattened her breasts, making them look misshapen. Simon finds it almost disturbingly erotic.

Simon can hear his heartbeat. Can feel it in his cock.

It's time to leave, Simon tells himself. He's feeling awkward and self conscious in a way that makes him worry someone can see him. He slips out of Alisha's front door, feeling both disappointed and not. He had thought that Alisha would go to a party, or go out with her friends, or have sex, or do something fabulous that he could never do, but she had just shucked off her clothes, answered text messages, and fallen into bed in her knickers. It was very nearly what Simon does at night, only he rarely has anyone to text. 

The next day when Simon sees Alisha he can't stop thinking of her skin. It makes him feel powerful, that he's seen something so deeply hers and she has no idea. The knowledge is nearly a physical feeling for him, like a glass marble rolling around in his chest, or an egg he has to keep whole in his shirt pocket. He doesn't think that he's acting any different, but he must be because Nathan notices. Of course Nathan notices.

"Hey weird kid!" Nathan yells, "did you watch some particularly nasty kiddie porn last night or something?"

Kelly raises some sort of good natured protest against Nathan's comment, the sort that makes Simon feel a little bit like he's five years old again and a little bit like she's crushing the egg in his pocket, so he interrupts her.

"I'm not a pervert," Simon mumbles then looks away before Nathan can see the look he knows is on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Written years ago for the (now seemingly defunct) anonymous kink meme on livejournal.
> 
> ETA 7/18/15. I wrote this fic in early 2010 and I've spent the last five years being conflicted about it. It is at its core more or less a depiction of sexual violence in what could be argued to be a romanticized or maybe just titillating way. Normally I would never write something like that, let alone put it on the internet for people to see, but I think the context in which I wrote this story makes a bit of a difference. In the early early days of Misfits there were tons of voyeur-Simon fics which had the scene he was watching be something like out of a cheap porno, all fancy lingerie and perfectly staged sex. I wanted to subvert that and write something a bit more realistic and less staged. I wanted to capture the way that, in my experience, most women don't parade around their bedroom in red lace, they take their bras off and slouch. What I ended up with was something less sexual and more intimate. If I'm being generous I can imagine this as a bit of commentary on the male gaze and the performative nature of sexiness. I don't think I would write something like this now, but there are moments in it I'm very proud of.


End file.
